by J. R. Tomlin
He led her to take their place of honor next to Callendar and the queen. From a side table for the clergy, Bishop Cameron intoned a lengthy blessing. Annabella nudged him to cross himself at the end, for he was too lost in a daze to notice. The queen had harried the kitchen into serving a tasty banquet. They started with crab and onion pie, duck roasted in honey, and then came beans savory with bacon, trout cooked in butter and goose stuffed with apples and oysters. Patrick made sure that Annabella had the choicest morsel of every dish set before them. By the time a sweet potage of ground almonds and candied ginger was served, Patrick was stuffed from the many courses, but entertainment went on well into the night. Patrick did not mind, since it gave him the chance to hold Annabella’s hand and steal several kisses while the crowd cheered on the juggler and mummers who put on a loud performance.
Chapter 15
The queen vigorously shook her head. “I agreed to wait until the two of you wed so as not to steal the attention from Annabella, but after you are one, I shall wed Sir James.”
Annabella had warned him that it was hopeless, but Patrick had to try. “Your Grace, even waiting until Bishop Kennedy returns would nae be so long. You will need an ally if Callendar takes your wedding as a threat to his power.” He propped his elbows on the table between them where they’d tossed aside their playing cards and leaned closer, making sure his voice was low. He did not want this conversation overheard by Callendar’s wife, who was at her embroidery on the other side of the solar. “The Black Knight is a braw man. I dinnae deny he’ll be a good husband to you, but he has never been a friend to Callendar, and that is not a man to ever forget or forgive a slight.”
“Nonsense. I am on excellent terms with Sir Alexander. I would hardly have put my son in his care if I had not fully trusted him. He knows that.”
Patrick sighed. They were out of time to convince her. In a few moments, they would leave for the church for his wedding to Annabella, and all of his pleas had been for naught. That she had entrusted her son to Livingston, she was obviously convinced, would be enough. But every day Patrick saw Callendar and Cameron’s greed for power grow. He was the queen’s old friend and ally. She simply did not see it.
Patrick shook his head. There was nothing more he could do.
The queen smiled in forgiveness. “I know that you worry, but all will be well. Now you need to think of your bride.”
With that he could agree, so he returned her smile, glad that at least she wasn’t angry at his appeals, perhaps stated a bit too often. The Black Knight threw open the door and called, “It is time.” They all rose. Patrick bowed to the queen as he was to enter through the side door of the Royal Chapel.
The Black Knight accompanied him, commenting as they went that the doublet he’d gifted Patrick with looked particularly well for the wedding. The priest, already in a lavishly embroidered alb, met them at the side door to a small room where he told them to wait. He assured Patrick he would summon him at the right moment.
Through the closed door, they heard the king chattering and the sounds of footsteps as the guests entered the chapel. Presently, an altar boy opened the door and led them in. There they found the king, queen and princesses, along with Lord Gray and Alex Boyd, sitting on pews that had been moved into the chapel, awaiting the ceremony.
They all beamed as the two of them strode to the steps of the chancel where the priest awaited with a couple of acolytes. He turned to bow to the altar and then faced the congregation. When he raised his arms, from the front of the chapel, Annabella entered on her father’s arm. They came to stand between Patrick and the Black Knight, Forbes giving Patrick a solemn nod, but Patrick couldn’t return it. His gaze was fixed on his bride.
She was stunning. A blush tinted her cheeks and her eyes gleamed. Dressed in rose colored silk trimmed with marten, her bodice was fitted and her long dagged sleeves almost reached the floor. A snood that sparkled with gems confined her tawny hair. When she looked past her father, who stood between them, her gaze fixed on his.
Patrick started, having gotten lost in her eyes, when the priest asked who gave the woman to this man. Lord Forbes said, “I do.”
Forbes gave her hand to Patrick, stepping away and Patrick’s heart beat so hard he thought its thundering might be heard, but even Annabella must not have heard, because she just smiled up at him. With a flourish, the Black Knight produced the ring for the priest to bless, a gift of the queen from her own jewelry. He slipped it onto her finger, never letting her hand go. Then the priest declared them man and wife. She was his. That thought got him through the moments as they knelt for the priest’s blessing.
Patrick found himself, not quite sure how it was all over, walking arm and arm through their guests to the door. The king skipped alongside them wondering loudly if he would marry someday, but declaring it a pretty boring business. The princesses were all chattering, except the Muta Domina, who was signing excitedly, and one of her sisters signing back.
He would have liked to take his bride to his own house at Kinneff, but that was near Aberdeen and impossible. Instead, there was the wedding feast to get through. The banquet far outdid the one for their betrothal, the kitcheners and cooks having had far more time for preparation. There was venison, salmon, and even a peacock dressed in its own feathers. The entertainment had the added novelty of a dancing bear, which entranced the king. That was followed by dancing, and as much as he enjoyed twirling through the steps of the dance, advance and retreat, with his bride, the day could not end soon enough.
The king had nodded off and been removed along with the princesses, when finally the Black Knight leapt to his feet. “To bed with them!” He waved broadly to the musicians. “Pipers, you must lead the way.”
Annabella gave a good-natured shrug.
Patrick whispered in her ear, “I shall chase them away as soon as I can.” He squeezed her hand, but she was unfazed by the raucous cheers and jokes around them as the queen and the Black Knight followed two pipers up the stairs. In their bedchamber, they were given no time to enjoy the warm glow of the fireplace and candles or the velvet bed hangings. The women, laughing as much as the men, pulled Annabella on the far side of the bed, hidden by bed hangings. But Patrick had his hands full when Alex Boyd, Sir William, and the Black Knight, joined by even his father and Lord Forbes, were unbuttoning his doublet and untying the points that held his chauses. He grabbed onto his braes with both hands. “No!” He laughed. “Leave me a little dignity!”
“Ashamed for us to see what you have?” crowed Alex Boyd.
“I dinnae think it would interest you, you—” But he got no further in his protestations as they grabbed him by his legs and arms and threw him into the bed. He landed with a bounce, his legs across Annabella. He quickly rolled off. “Did I hurt you?”
“Nae. Not at all, my husband.” The phrase caused her to beam at him, and then she turned to the cheering onlookers and made a shooing motion to them with both arms. “Out! We dinnae need you anymore.”
“Aye, that is truth.” He made a ferocious face at the onlookers as they backed out of the room, several still hooting and laughing. When the door closed behind them, he fell back, took her hand in his, and gave a sigh of profound relief.
He rolled over on his side and pulled her to him. “At last! Mine, my wife. And I am yours, all I have.”
“I liked you from the first moment I saw you all that time ago at the parliament.” She cuddled against him. “In my heart, I wanted this for…” She chuckled. “I ken I am nae supposed to tell you that. How long I thought about you.”
“That is no bad thing. I am glad of it.” He ran urgent hands over her. “You are beautiful. So brave and daring. So tempting. I wanted you so much.” He stroked one of her breasts. “Can you blame me?”
“How can I?” She took his hand and in the candlelight he could see her blush at her boldness as he slipped it between her thighs, so he could feel she was wet with wanting him. He rolled her onto her back so he could bur
y his face between her breasts, then kissing over her belly and the tawny triangle at her groin, over the velvety skin of her thighs.
He spread her thighs, and groaning at the need to keep control, pushed into her. He halted when she gave a brief gasp of pain. He held very still for a moment. “All right?” he whispered.
She nodded her head, eyes wide, arms wound around his waist. She felt so tight, so good. He stilled, letting her relax into his intrusion, become accustomed to having him inside her. He eased back oh so slowly. “How is that?” he whispered against her hair.
“Oh.” She tightened her arms around him. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes and thrust slowly into her again. She moaned softly.
“Good?” he asked, his voice choked with the effort of being soft with her, gentle.
“My love,” she murmured. “My own.”
He did it again and felt her body accepting him. Dear Jesu, he wanted this.
“Yes,” she called out. “Dinnae stop.”
And he moved, and he did not stop. Slowly at first, easing himself in and out of her, feeling her hips move tentatively to meet him, crying out once again. No longer able to contain his eagerness, he met the thrust with his own, surer now, her body responding so sweetly. He lowered his mouth to hers, explored it for the first time with his tongue and shifted his weight to thrust harder. He could feel the explosion building deep inside him. Beneath him, her body quivered, her back arched. Sweat dripped from his brow. Both of them were slick with it.
There was only the passion...only her...only him... She cried out and her body convulsed. His thoughts shattered like crystal...
When he rolled himself off her a bit limply, he called up enough energy to pull her close and kiss the top of her head. “My own…” he murmured. “My sweet lady wife.”
Her curling her body against him was all the answer he needed. He sleepily caressed her breasts and the soft curve of her hip, but sleep soon won its way after the long day.
Chapter 16
3 August 1439
Patrick paced back and forth across the bedchamber, shaking his head in frustration. “How can I do this?” he asked his lady wife.
“What choice do we have? Whether you think it wise or nae, the queen has every right to remarry, and she desires that we accompany her to the abbey. She has been all that is kind. We cannae say nae.”
“Since she is doing it in secret, that must mean she realizes that Lord Callendar will object. How can we lend our aid to her downfall?”
Annabella rubbed her forehead as though it were aching. “She believes that he will accept a fait accompli.”
Patrick grabbed up his sword belt and buckled it around his waist. “I pray to all the saints that she is right.” He was already clad for riding in heavy wool doublet and boots. He put Annabella’s cloak around her shoulders and fastened it with a silver brooch. “I wish you’d stay out of the affair. I dinnae want Lord Callendar blaming you. Let his ire fall on me and the Black Knight.”
She laughed, going on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You are a bonnie man, but foolish to even think it.”
“Aye. I kent you would say that.” He put his arm around her and they hurried out of their chamber, down the stairs, through the great hall, and into the bailey where horses were saddled and waiting. Lady Barbara and Annabella saw the princesses mounted. Patrick raised an eyebrow at the absence of Lady Janet, Callendar’s wife and still one of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting. The queen had delayed their departure until Lord Callendar had left the castle for a morning’s hunt. Callendar had ordered that the king was to leave the castle only with at least a score of men-at-arms, so the queen had ordered the guards to accompany them. So it was a party of nearly thirty that rode out east toward Cambuskenneth Abbey only a two-hour ride to the east on the other side of the River Forth.
The men-at-arms were in a jovial mood, thinking the ride nothing more than an outing. They laughed and jostled, pointing to geese flying overhead in early autumn formations and wondering when they’d see the first snows. They skirted the outer edge of the great Torwood Forest on the higher ground above the Forth. The Cambuskenneth Abbey, set in one of the twists of the River Forth just before it spilled into the salt estuary of the firth, rose in the distance, its spire thrusting high into the sky.
David White, the Abbot of Cambuskenneth Abbey, met them at the doors of the splendid abbey, its huge windows glistening red, green, and purple in the midday August sunlight. He was dressed in a resplendent chasuble and jewel-encrusted pectoral cross on a heavy gold chain. They heard the singing of a choir from within the abbey.
The abbot led them into the abbey, escorted the queen, the king, and the Black Knight to before the chancel, where they knelt as he began the wedding ceremony and wedding mass. Patrick could barely contain his nervous fidgeting and cast sidelong looks at Annabella, who was making a strong attempt to look happy for the couple. But her fear was barely below the surface, having absorbed his consternation at this marriage.
He grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. Whatever happened, they would see it through together.
This wedding was long as there were intervals of singing and additional prayers. The king gave his mother’s hand to the Black Knight with a giggle that she repressed with a stern look. Sir William produced a ring for the bride and slid it onto her finger as the abbot blessed it and the woman who received it.
There followed more joyous singing and then the blessedly brief nuptial mass. After, there were nervous congratulations, before the abbot led them into a guesthouse for a hurried feast, for it was essential the king be returned to Stirling Castle before nightfall. The results otherwise did not bear consideration.
When they left, although it was well into the afternoon, several hours remained before nightfall. There was a pleasant breeze and light scudding clouds, but a nervous disquiet had gone through the company. They all knew that Callendar would be angry at this secret wedding. Even the king and princesses sensed the unease and were silent.
At last, the long, weary day was ending as they clattered up the steep incline that led to the castle barbican. They passed through the portcullis and pale gray walls surrounded them where Lord Callendar paced back and forth in the center of the bailey.
Patrick dismounted wearily and lifted Annabella from the saddle, keeping a wary eye on the scowling Callendar. When they were all dismounted, the nobleman marched to face the queen. “You married! Did you imagine that I would nae learn of this perfidy! After the protection I’ve given you!” He turned to glare at the Black Knight, who still had a hand on the queen’s back after helping her to dismount. “You! You have always been mine enemy. And you think you can gain control of the king through his mother. You are wrong. I shall see to that!” Spittle flew from his mouth in his rage.
Patrick heard a footfall behind him and looked over his shoulder. To his horror, a half-circle of pikemen had them trapped, their ten-foot poleaxes lowered for use.
The queen stepped in front of her husband, who took her arm and pulled her back in protest. “Lord Callendar, I would not have brought my son to you for safekeeping if I meant to steal him away. I only…” She looked at her new husband, face pallid with fear. “I am so alone since the king died. Surely, you can understand that a woman needs a husband to lend her his strength.”
Annabella was squeezing Patrick’s arm, mouth open, her face blank with distress. The king had come to stand beside Patrick, looking from his mother to Callendar in bafflement. “I dinnae understand.” The princesses were huddled together, wide-eyed.
“Wheesht,” he told the lad. “I’ll explain later.” For once, the young king did as he was told.
Callendar spit at the queen’s feet. “Who can ken what a woman might think, but the Stewarts and their Douglas allies, I ken I can never trust. And you’ve allied yourself with this man, so that he can claim to protect his stepson. Are you so stupid, you dinnae ken that is his plan?”
A dozen more men-at-a
rms, these with swords in hand, had approached from the guardhouse at the gate.
Callendar turned to the pikemen. “You. Escort the Black Knight and his brother to the dungeon. They shall see what comes of betraying my trust.”
“No,” Queen Joan gasped. She grabbed her husband’s arm, but he pried it loose and shook his head.
“Give him time to think, My Lady. I am sure he will come to see we mean him no harm.”
Sir William shot his brother a skeptical look but the two men allowed themselves to be herded into the castle. The dungeon of the castle had a fearsome reputation, but the men could survive it if… Patrick shook his head. It all depended on Callendar being convinced that his power was not threatened by the queen.
The look Callendar turned on the queen was glacial. “I shall escort you to your new quarters.”
That was apparently the last straw for King James who scowled fiercely at the man. “Stop yelling at my mother.”
Callendar tilted his head thoughtfully in James’s direction. “Aye. If you like, I shall not shout at her.” He offered his arm and with a wary, baffled look, Queen Joan took it. “I shall show the lady to her new chamber.”
In a low voice, Patrick said, “You had best take the king and the princesses to their chambers.” He cast an unhappy look at Callendar as he escorted the queen to the King’s Building. “I dinnae like this at all.”
Annabella nodded. “Your Grace, would you help me calm your sisters and take them to their chambers? I fear they are frightened.” The king looked unconvinced but went to take Joan’s hand. Without someone to sign for her, she had obviously not followed what was happening and had begun silently weeping.
As soon as Annabella had shepherded them out of the bailey yard, Patrick hurried after Callendar and the queen. He found Callendar standing before a strong barred door turning the key in the lock. Two of his men-at-arms, pikes planted at their sides, stood beside the doorway. “Where is the queen?” Patrick demanded, finally losing his temper.